


i wanna clean up your mess

by bellawritess



Series: malum prompts [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Almost Crack, Breakfast, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Sex, bullshit and nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess
Summary: “You’re making them breakfast?” he says.Calum turns and grins smugly. “Oh, good morning, Michael,” he says. “How are you doing?”
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Series: malum prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026381
Kudos: 7





	i wanna clean up your mess

**Author's Note:**

> **prompt:** "are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you've been dying to ask me?"
> 
> [tumblr link!](https://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/post/617318448728604672/64-for-malum-if-you-could-please)
> 
> title from share your address by ben platt

Luke sits down and starts eating his omelet. A moment later, Ashton comes in, sits down, and starts eating _his_ omelet. Michael stares at them, appalled. He marches into the kitchen.

Calum is making an omelet at the stove.

“You’re making them breakfast?” he says.

Calum turns and grins smugly. “Oh, good morning, Michael,” he says. “How are you doing?”

“This is a low blow,” Michael says. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Calum says. “Was there something you wanted from me?”

Michael hates him so much.

“No,” he says. “Fuck you. I’m breaking up with you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Who says?”

Calum raises his eyebrows. Michael groans.

“Fine, I’m not, but you’re on thin fucking ice,” he says. He opens the fridge. If Calum doesn’t want to make him breakfast, fine. Fuck him. Michael’s an adult. Michael’s twenty-four. He can make his own goddamn breakfast.

“Hungry?” Calum asks after a moment. Michael pulls his head out of the fridge and glares at him.

“Shut up,” he says. “I’m cross with you.”

Calum chuckles and returns to his stupid omelet, which smells so tantalizingly good. The scent is filling up the kitchen. Michael wants to cry.

It’s Luke’s stupid fault, anyway. Luke had pointed out that they were unbelievably codependent. “I mean, Ash and I do each other favors, but it’s like you’re living each other’s lives for each other,” he’d said. And when Michael and Calum had protested, Luke had fixed them with a look. “Michael, when’s the last time you made a meal for yourself? And hey, Cal, have you _ever_ restrung your own guitar since you’ve been together?”

“There’s nothing wrong with our relationship,” Michael had argued then. “You’re just jealous because all Ash ever does for you is gets you off. I bet he doesn’t even know how to restring a guitar.” Not that Michael would know how to do any sort of drum kit repair, but still.

“I’m just saying it’s strange,” Luke had said. “That’s all.”

And they’d ignored it until that night, when they’d gotten into bed and Calum had said, “You know, Luke’s kinda right. We do a lot for each other. I’m not sure I actually _have_ restrung a guitar in awhile. And I don’t think you’ve cooked for yourself.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting him get in your head,” Michael had said. “Are you divorcing me?”

“I can’t divorce you, you dolt, we’re not married,” Calum had said. “I’m just saying it might be fun to see how long we last without asking each other for anything. I restring my own guitars, you make your own meals. I bet you twenty bucks I last longer.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Michael had said.

And now they’re here.

They’re going on a full week, and Michael’s been holding his own. He’s cleaned all his own clothes and made all his own meals (mostly consisting of ramen or cereal) and done all his own washing up, and he’s proud to say that despite Luke’s misconceptions, he and Calum are both adults who can function on their own. They’ve not had sex in a week because neither one of them wants to be the one to ask, but apart from that, everything is fine.

Except now Luke and Ashton have come over to visit, and Calum’s made them breakfast, _conveniently_ at the same time Michael’s usually in the kitchen for breakfast. Calum’s the worst boyfriend ever.

He’s tempted to just steal the one Calum’s making for himself, but that would mean he’s reliant on Calum for breakfast, and he’s not. He’s _not_. He can make his own breakfast. He’s a grown-ass man, for fuck’s sake.

He thinks about having cheese toast while the rest of his bandmates tuck into Calum’s delicious omelets and decides, fuck it. He doesn’t need breakfast. He’ll eat later, when nobody’s around to judge his meal choices.

He makes for the doorway, and Calum says, “Are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

Michael turns and crosses his arms. “I’ve got nothing to ask you.”

“You’re such a liar,” Calum says. “Just ask, and we can be done with this.”

“I have no questions.”

“Yes, you have.”

“Have not.”

“Fine, be that way,” Calum says, and turns back around to the stove. “I’ll enjoy this delicious omelet by myself.”

Michael stares at him. “Marry me,” he says.

Calum stills. The spatula in his hand clatters to the counter. He turns around. “What?”

“Marry me,” Michael repeats, coming closer. No words have ever felt more right in his mouth. “Will you marry me?”

“This is a really tasteless joke,” Calum says tightly.

“I’m not joking,” Michael says, and he really, really isn’t. “Fuck what Luke thinks. I don’t care if you make me breakfast every morning. I _want_ that. Not just because I can’t make my own breakfast, although I can’t, but because I want to wake up every single morning for the rest of my life and know you’re going to be there too.”

Calum blinks, and a tear treks down his cheek. “You’re serious,” he says.

“Deadly,” Michael agrees. “I don’t care if I lose the bet. I’d restring a million guitars to get to live and die with you, Calum. Please. Calum Thomas Hood — I don’t have a ring, this was kind of spur-of-the-moment —”

“Oh my God, are you kidding me, of course I’ll marry you,” Calum breathes, pulling him in for a kiss that lasts so long Michael wonders if he’ll ever taste oxygen again. He doesn’t need to, though, doesn’t need to taste anything that’s not Calum, to know anyone that’s not Calum, to be anywhere Calum isn’t. This is all he needs.

They break apart, and Michael leans his forehead against Calum’s. “Thank God,” he says. “Imagine how awkward it would have been if you’d said no.”

“Don’t worry,” Calum says, “I’ve only said yes so now I can divorce you for real. And you owe me twenty bucks.”

“DID YOU JUST PROPOSE TO CALUM?” Ashton shouts from the dining room. “WITHOUT US?”

“YOU GUYS ARE THE WORST. YOU’RE OUT OF THE BAND,” Luke yells.

Michael laughs. “Now will you please make me an omelet and then have sex with me? _Please_?”

Calum kisses him and then sets to work making a fourth omelet.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3 i'm on tumblr [@clumsyclifford](http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/), come say hey!


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